Shattered
by Crispliess
Summary: Hanzo doesn't just kill Genji's body that night in Hanamura... he kills his soul too. A non-canon compliant story of Genji's recovery after Hanamura and his journey to acceptance (with daemons added in cause I do what I want).


**AN: So I freaking love Genji? He's my second favorite character in OW (first being mah boi McCree lol) so I was so inspired to write a fic about him and I added in Daemons inspired by His Dark Materials because I love that trope so freaking much and thought it would make things a little bit more interesting. **

**Daemons are basically the outward embodiment of someone's soul that takes the form of an animal and if they die their person dies, for those who don't know :)**

* * *

They drag him from death's icy hold gasping and screaming (Riko, Riko, Ri⎯), only to shove him back into another cold, dark place. But this new place was far worse than death. Dying was soothing, a relief; like the slow lap of waves and a cool breeze. This ⎯ whatever _this _was ⎯ was _scary _and agonizing.

Something scalding hot is curled between the space between his ribs and navel, shivering and weak. He recognizes it vaguely as his dragon spirit, who is barely whole and closer to death than even he. She is using all of her strength to keep him alive and is slowly losing the battle. She curls in on herself, shaking with the effort to keep his weak heart beating and his mind firmly locked _here_. She is so tired. Genji wants to tell her that it is okay to stop. He doesn't mind if she gives up. But his wounds are severe, his mind cannot fully comprehend the agony he feels, and he cannot gather himself enough to tell her. God, it _hurts. _And he wants it to _stop. _

He cannot think anything besides _coldemptyhanzopleasenononorikorikoRIKO_⎯

His brother's sword had hacked and slashed him, leaving gruesome gouges in his skin. Body burnt and eaten away by Hanzo's dragons. His legs and shoulder shattered and his face flayed into an unrecognizable bloody mess. There is not an inch of him that doesn't pulse with agony, and he might go insane from it. It's too _much, he can't! he_⎯

He thinks he might be dead (_should _be dead. Why is he still here? What is the purpose of living in this torture?) but he hears voices drift in and out of his awareness like wraiths. It is impossible to make out what they are saying thanks to the ringing in his ears. They are distant and have a certain cold detachment that makes him try and shy away. He opens his mouth to say something, but no noise comes out.

There are hands on him, ice cold and clinical. They hold him down and _touch him, _and he feels he is going to be sick. He feels violated; fingers stray where they shouldn't, and he wants to scream _don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me! _but all that leaves his mangled throat is an inhuman shriek, his dragon joining his voice to try and make them _stop _but they are both too weak and hurt to do anything else.

"_This is our only chance, he will die if we do nothing. The GSF has already green carded it_."

"Dr. Ziegler⎯"

"_I am going to save him_."

He screams. Hands touch what is left of his mangled, twisted body. They touch raw gaping wounds and are cutting off _living _skin with the _snip snip _of scissors. He feels every cut, every push and pull, and there are _hands inside of him. _Someone digs around in his insides with careless abandon, and he _screams. _More hands touch him, pinning him down and there is shouting and it's so _loud. _

They tie his skin together with burning needles and thread and press down onto his wounds and inject him with ichor that he feels slide into his veins and slither to his heart before spreading to his entire body. It's revolting. He feels like he is going to throw up but he thinks They may have cut out his stomach, he is unsure. He wants Them to stop. He screams at Them to stop but They don't _listen_.

They are moving him. Lifting him onto a hover gurney, and still They touch him. He thinks he feels another needle inject something into him, but it is hard to tell with the pulsing agony that crushes his spine and threatens to stop his heart. Then he thinks they might be on a ship. But he isn't sure because They are still fucking _touching him_. He wants to growl, feels his dragon's rage inside of him but she is even more helpless than he.

She took the brunt of Hanzo's dragon's attack. She tried so hard to fight back, but she was smaller than Hanzo's dragons, and she had been outnumbered. They consumed her, ripping her apart and moving on to Riko and then to Genji. And still, she dragged herself back to him and tried to hold him together, for hours and hours she held onto him until he began to fray at the seams and fall apart. And yet she still held him. Genji had fought her, gutted at the loss of something important but he was in so much pain he could not figure out what was missing but something _was_.

They encase him in frigid metal an eternity later. His body taken from him. He cannot move. He cannot see. Claustrophobia squeezes whatever They left of his insides. His own breath is caged within his chest. His actions are no longer his own. His body is not his own.

He tries one last time to scream but it falls on deaf ears and someone covers his mouth, his nose, and he _cannot breathe. _Tears spill from his eyes; he is so _scared, _he _can't breathe, he __**can't**_⎯

* * *

Genji doesn't just… wake up.

It is as if someone flips a switch and his eyes are just… open. He is flung into awareness so suddenly he feels whiplash. He blinks blurrily, there is a low ringing in his ears and the world around him is tinted a hideous shade of red and Genji _hates _it.

His body feels… strange. He tries to focus to try and figure out why but it is like his head is pumped full of cotton and he cannot _think_. His legs and left arm feel numb and there's a copper aftertaste in the back of his throat that makes him grimace.

He looks around the room with a sort of detached fascination. He does not recognise anything. It is not just that the room he is in is unfamiliar; he cannot recognise anything because everything looks somehow _broken. _He feels so numb, and he tries to reach for something _anything_ but he can't because his arms are tied down to his sides.

_That's strange, _he thinks. Frowning down at his hands only to feel all of the air leave his lungs as he stares down in mounting horror. His right arm is slashed with gruesome wounds tied together grotesquely with sutures and the other… the other is _gone_.

He cannot seem to breathe and he gapes down and there is a sinking feeling in his gut that something far more important than his dominant hand is missing. He feels so raw and open and he wants to cry because he is so scared and confused and the last thing he remembers is ⎯

_painpainnononohanzopleaseimsorryrikoNO_

The world shatters.

He feels his mind falling to pieces.. There is an endless cold emptiness within his chest and every breath he takes is sucked away from him to fall into the chasm, and his head begins to spin. He thinks he might have blacked out for a moment but is unsure, it doesn't really matter though, nothing matters.

_Where is the color? _He wonders hysterically, eyes wide and unfocused. His chest heaves and yet it still is not enough, and even that feels wrong. There is something on his face, breathing for him. A mask that covers his nose and mouth that push sterile air into his lungs. Every inhale is accompanied by a robotic hiss and Genji tries to hold his breath to make it stop. But the machine is breathing for him and forces air into him.

With mounting panic Genji begins to search the room he is in, looking for Riko but she isn't _there_.

_But that is impossible_, he thinks numbly. Because Riko is right here, at his side, where she belongs.

But she _isn't, _he realizes with a small strangled noise. She is not there (_where, where, where, whe_⎯_), _there is a blackhole instead where she _should _be but _isn't. _The ringing in his ears is louder now, he cannot hear anything else.

He pulls at his restraint helplessly, a broken whimper escaping him. He is so desperate that his dragon responds without thought, sending a bolt of green energy through him and suddenly the restraints aren't there anymore and he reaches up and grips what is left of his green hair and pulls with cruel strength. He doesn't notice when he pulls out entire handfuls of hair, and even if he did, he wouldn't care. He just sits there, his eyes unfocused and unresponsive.

_Riko is gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone. _

_He is alone. _

And Shimada Genji screams. An awful inhuman shriek that echoes in the hollow of his bones and is interwoven with a dragon's roar. Salty tears stream down his mangled ruined face and he screams, and screams, and _screams_. He doesn't hear any of this though, the ringing in his ears drowns out every noise and he doesn't even notice when people swarm into the room, pinning him down. All he can do is scream, because there is nothing else he _can _do. Because Riko is _gone_.

His soul is _gone_.

* * *

Angela Ziegler's daemon is an elegant red weasel. He watches Genji with intelligent black eyes from his perch on the doctor's shoulders. The woman had introduced him as Kaiser and the small creature had yet to speak aloud in his presence but Genji imagined his voice was soft and quiet.

Doctor Ziegler hovered at his bed, clipboard in hand as she asked him array of questions in stilted heavily accented Japanese; he assumed it was for his benefit even though the Shimada was perfectly capable of speaking and understanding English, French, Arabic and Mandarin. It was hard to focus on the Doctor's questions, it felt to him like everyone was just asking the same things: how he was feeling, if he was in any pain, if there was anything she could do to make him more comfortable. Genji answered the questions he could with a nod or shake of his head. The mere thought of talking made him want to vomit and his doctor had yet to push him on speaking.

She hid it well, but Genji could tell she was uncomfortable by his staring. It was considered bad form and borderline rude to stare at one's deamon like Genji was. Frankly, Genji didn't give a shit.

Despite her discomfort she continues with her examination, diligently jotting down data from the loud machines that surround him onto her clipboard. She has him follow her finger with his eyes (they feel strange… heavy. Genji thinks they might be bionic replacements and can't find the will to care. At this point he just doesn't care anymore). The blonde doctor asks him to pinch the fingers of his remaining hand and wiggle his artificial toes. She presses her gloved hand against the side of the foot and asks if he can feel the pressure. He can, in a disconnected sort of way. Genji feels the sudden urge to cry but his face remains blank.

He follows her orders robotically and without question, in the beginning he tried to ignore her but learned that the prompter he was in following her orders the faster she would leave. Genji hasn't spoken since he woke, just lays on the hospital bed and lets the group of doctors poke and prod him without complaint. Doctor Ziegler isn't as overbearing as the others.

He prefers her presence.

The assassin wouldn't go as far to say that he _likes _her. But she is kind; and her accent might be so strong he can barely understand her words but she speaks _to _him rather than at him. There is no pity in her eyes, which Genji appreciated most of all. There was a nurse that had taken one look at him and burst into sympathetic tears, lemanting on how sorry she was for him. Genji had never wanted to kill someone more than he had then.

He does not want pity. He wants to die. But the medical team here seems determined to not let him. There were always multiple people in the room with him when he wasn't restrained (he was prone to violent outbursts). And even then there is nothing in the room that Genji could use to end it… which is a shame, really.

After her questions the doctor goes to check over his body personally. She starts on his head and checks the wires protruding from the back of his head and triple checks that they are all connected to where they need to be. She explains that he is the first person to have such dramatic prosthetic replacements and that she is working with a team to make his replacements more streamlined and less bulky. Genji personally can't wait to be rid of the awkward weight at the nape of his neck.

She has him roll his jaw a couple times next, asking if any of the mechanisms in the hinge are catching or if he feels anything strange. _Of course it feels strange_, he thinks. They had replaced his entire jaw. The lower half of his skull feels too light and too stiff and just wrong in an indescribable way. Dr. Ziegler promises they will explore options for his jaw to look more natural. Genji doesn't think it matters all that much since it looks like he had gone 1v1 with a chainsaw and lost.

From his head she travels down and checks the power core that rests in his chest, it pulses red along with his heart beat and is a molten weight that is impossible to ignore. The young blond goes over his abdomen, and after checking all the major machinery she goes to check his severed limbs where they had installed sockets for prosthetics a couple weeks ago.

An odd sort of trepidation fills him at the thought of being able to walk again. A kind of nervous excitement and yet overwhelming fear. He wants oh so bad to stand on his own, to gain his independence back. And yet he fears what will come after this. How can he hold the weight of his own body without Riko? How can he take a single step forward with being so utterly alone?

On her shoulder Kaiser's whiskers twitch and the long, slender creature silently jumps to one of the annoying beeping machines and studies the numbers. Genji's red eyes follow the movement silently, he can hear Doctor Ziegler clear her throat softly but the Shimada ignores her and continues to watch the daemon. It is… difficult for him to look at the daemons and their people who have what he has lost. He doesn't quite resent them, but an overwhelming sort of longing nearly drowns him every waking moment and into his unconsciousness. And it helps, in a therapeutic kind of way, to watch other's souls. Makes the longing in his chest subside, if just a little bit.

He is struck for the hundredth thousandth time on how much he misses Riko. Misses her so much that it's hard to breathe. His soul is gone and Genji sorely wishes he had followed her into death. Nothing is worth this pain. Nothing is worth the silence.

Riko was not only his daemon but his best friend, his sister, his everything. She was loud and outgoing and constantly moving. She would perch on his head and preen his hair and he cries at night when he thinks about how much she had loved his green hair and how sad she would be that he had ruined it. He misses the feel of her feathers running through his fingers, misses the sharp pain when she would nip his knuckles. Would give anything and kill anyone to see her fly just one more time.

Genji is no stranger to pain. He has an intimate relationship with it. But nothing - nothing at _fucking all - _not even his own brother hacking him to bits… none of it comes close to the pain he feels. Riko's absence is like an open infected wound that throbs and burns. He would liken it to the loss of a limb but he has lost three now and not even that comes close. It is indescribable.

'_What am I?' _Genji wonders when Doctor Ziegler begins to undo his restraints and helps him sit up. He is not a person because a person needs a soul and his is now gone. He is not an omnic either (at least he thinks and hopes so) because even though he is more machine than flesh… he was once human. He was once a person.

But that feels like a lifetime ago.

As he sits on the edge of the bed, the soles of his prosthetic feet making contact with the cold tile, he is struck by a memory. A memory of when Riko had finally settled. She had taken her sweet time too, Genji had been fifteen when his daemon finally chose a permanent form. Before that day Riko had always been restless, flickering between shapes faster than one could blink. His father Sojiro had found it amusing, telling Genji that his mother's own daemon had been much the same way. At a time when the young Shimada had been embarrassed at Riko's unstable nature his father's words had been a comfort.

It had been a rare day where Hanzo and Genji had a free evening to spend together. They had been lounging in the gardens at their estate in Hanamura, Hanzo reading some fancy philosophical essay and Genji playing on his phone. Gin resting at Hanzo's feet with his large head resting on his paws, yellow eyes drooping and relaxed whilst Riko danced around him as a stoat. Hanzo's daemon was a quiet and watchful thing, his dark fur allowing him to blend into shadows and be unseen. The wolf loved Genji and Riko though, despite his aloof demeanor.

When Genji was younger, he would follow Hanzo around constantly. Riko would change into a wolf pup herself in an attempt to imitate their brother as closely as possible.

But alas his soul had settled not as a wolf but as a sparrowhawk. A beautiful bird of prey, small yet deadly. When Riko had interrupted the two brother's comfortable silence to shyly proclaim that she thinks she had settled, Hanzo had been so happy. Gin had jumped to his paws and howled his pride and Riko had taken to the skies. The two daemons chasing each other playfully and Hanzo had embraced him and they had been _happy-_

He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally pushing the memory away as his heart twisted painfully. He wonders bitterly what had happened to _that_ Hanzo. The one who loved him and played with him and protected him. It hurt far worse that it was his own brother that did this to him. Hanzo was serious and could be cruel but Genji had never expected the man to hurt him. Gin had always been a distant but loving presence, he had never once snapped at either Riko or Genji and the memory of the wolf snarling and lunging at Riko made his stomach drop.

It is there in that hospital room (shakily standing for the first time, Doctor Ziegler closely monitoring him. He sways on his bionic feet and blinks looking around the room. His prosthetic legs make him slightly taller than he used to be, he thinks Riko would have laughed) that something hot begins to burn in his core. Anger. He is so angry and he _hates. _He hates Hanzo for killing him, at the Clan for making his brother do it, at Doctor Ziegler for not letting him die, at Riko for dying and leaving him alone in this hell.

His legs give out from underneath him and the blonde woman at his side rushes to help him back onto the bed, he wants to grab her by the throat in _squeeze _but is too weak to lift his arms.

The dragon that rests in the cage of his ribs stir at his sudden burst of emotion. She is as angry and full of hate as he. She roars constantly and writhes without pause. Keeping him awake and drowning out the white noise. She yearns to destroy, maim, _kill. _

Genji hates her too.

* * *

One of the nurses walks into his room a couple of weeks later pushing an empty wheelchair in front of her. An ugly rat of a dog with a squashed in face, trotting at her side with a too long tongue lolling out of its mouth and big bulging eyes staring in two directions. She is a busty and older woman with dark hair tied back and dark eyes, not particularly unique and she clucks around him like a hen.

Genji closes his eyes to fight back the irritation that explodes in his gut as she greets him loudly, butchering his name in her strange accent and then proceeds to manhandle him into the wheelchair. He almost growls at her, his scarred lips twitching to flash his sharp fangs. But something stops him when she blabbers that they are not going to physical therapy, or that she is _(thankfully) not _there to give him a sponge bath, and instead the irritating woman thought it would be just _wonderful _if she took him outside to get some fresh air.

She pities him, Genji knows. Thinks she can fix him through obnoxious kindness and win his favor by slipping pudding cups into his meals and other such kinds of degrading behaviors. He glares at her through his hair (the green faded and his natural black hair beginning to grow out) but she seems oblivious to it. She blatantly prays to her God in Genji's presence, asking her Lord to have mercy and save him… if Genji wasn't restrained to his bed he would've put his thumb through her eye. Out of all his _caretakers (_he hates the word) she is the one he hates the most.

Her name is Karen Brown, he couldn't be bothered to remember her daemons name. He thinks it started with a B but could be wrong. Genji hates them.

She wheels him out of the room and the Shimada glares from underneath his hair. Down the hall they go, Mrs. Brown's canine spirit trotting at his side with wheezing breathes and he thinks if he tries _really hard _the stupid dog will burst into a cloud of dust. It doesn't seem to be working but Genji can be patient.

He takes his gaze off the dog to look around once they round the corner to the hallway he is familiar with. Everything looks the same here, all shiny white walls and migraine inducing bright lights. A few people pass them and do a double take on Genji but no one says anything.

They enter an elevator, Mrs. Brown humming along to the tune the lift plays, and they reach the ground floor. There is a considerably more people here than upstairs and he feels immediately on edge and can practically feel everyone's eyes on him. Anxiety begins to rise in his chest and he pushes back against the back of the wheelchair.

The nurse doesn't seem to notice his sudden panic and continues on her way. People are pointing and staring and the Shimada feels a sudden rise in shame and humiliation. He very much wants to go back to his room now but he can't speak. Hasn't been able to cross that barrier yet and at this moment doesn't think he ever will.

He has the ability to speak, the one thing his brother hadn't flayed was his throat and his vocal cords are relatively unharmed. Dr. Ziegler says it may be psychosomatic but really Genji just doesn't have anything to say. And when he does, like _now, _it feels as if there is a physical force preventing him from speaking. Like a noose around his neck.

Heat boils in his stomach and Genji takes deep, even breaths; his breathing apparatus wheezing mechanically. The green haired man wills his rapidly beating heart to slow, but his anxiety seems to only worsen.

Then, they are outside and everything seems to pause. The sun is... warm. He raises his head to look up at the clouds with wide, red eyes. There is warmth on his face and the exposed skin of his arm. He had forgotten what it felt like. To be in the sun.

The sky is _blue_. It's so blue it doesn't seem real. The outside is so saturated and the space behind his eyes begins to ache but he can't stop staring. He doesn't know how long he has been cooped up in that room but he thinks it had to have been at least a few months. The sakuras of Hanamura had just begun to bloom when the… incident happened, and he wasn't quite sure where in the world he was but if he had to guess Genji would say it was late summer here considering the dryness of the air and heat of the day. He hasn't been outside in months, Genji realizes with a flare of anger.

Overwatch has been keeping him prisoner here for months, tied down to a bed without even getting a window and Genji hates them once again.

With manic energy, he raises his hand and rips off his breathing mask and takes in great gulps of fresh air like he had been drowning. It is euphoric, to breathe filthy hot air instead of the sterile heavy oxygen of his mask. His lungs burn with it and for the first time he feels the corner of his lips tug, just slightly.

"Genji, put your mask back on please." And the world comes crashing back into reality. Mrs. Brown stands at his side, holding his mask for him to take back.

He narrowed his eyes at her, his chest still heaving with every breath and he is aware of the feral aura he is giving off and doesn't care. A growl rises in his throat and Mrs. Brown scoffs at him, "No need to be grouchy, Genji."

There it is. His name again. She keeps saying his name like she knows him, like she has any right to say his first name. The Shimada's frayed patience is almost up and this woman is in far more danger than she realizes. And Genji is running out of reasons not to strike.

She tries to shove his mask back onto his face but he dodges in his chair, baring his sharp teeth at her. "You are not a wolf, young man. Quit acting like it." The woman snaps, grabbing him by the wires on the back of his neck to press the mask firmly against his face.

She is right, he is not a wolf.

He is a dragon.

With lightning speed he stands and his flesh hand is around her throat. Her hands are around his arms and her feet kick in the air where they are suspended off the ground.

"Gen…" she whimpers.

_Again _with his name! He squeezes harder with a snarl. Green fire begins to lick at his shoulders as his dragon stirs, thirsty for destruction. His arm shakes with the effort of holding the woman up, he is using his flesh one. The muscle has mostly died over time but with the power his dragon is pumping into him he has the strength needed to do this. To eradicate this annoyance.

He is vaguely aware of her daemon yapping up a storm, its barks hoarse and breaking. He thinks it might've bitten his leg but can only feel the pressure of it and not any pain.

His blood is roaring and Genji feels _alive _for the first time since he woke up in this hell. God, it feels so _good!_

He couldn't stop even if he wanted to . His spirit dragon is practically howling with delight and drowns out all other noise and they both are so hungry for destruction and death. Genji is long passed caring and he feels a hysterical grin pull at his lips. His faded green hair waves in the updraft of his dragon's flames and his eyes glow red. A feral sort of delight fills him to the brim and Genji can't remember a time he had felt so exhilarated.

Mrs. Brown's struggles wane and her eyes begin to droop. Satisfaction fills him to the brim as her arms go limp and she is left dangling in his hold. She is still alive, her daemon is still going ballistic at his side, but one more squeeze will-

"Shimada!" Someone shouts and then he is being shoved to the ground with a knee in his back and big, rough hands pinning him in place as he snarls and froths at the mouth.

He is surrounded now, a group of people converging on them. Someone rolls Mrs. Brown onto her back and begins to administer first aid whilst sending him wary glances.

The green fire subsides as quickly as it came and Genji is left feeling as if his limbs were noodles. He can't even fight back if he tried, so instead he opens his mouth and for the first time in months, he speaks. He starts spitting insults and threats in Japanese as loud as he can. He snarls that he is going to kill everyone, that he hates everyone, that he will enjoy sending his blade through all of their hearts. He is so so angry he doesn't even realize he has finally overcome the hurdle of speaking, hadn't even thought about it.

"We get it, kid." The man above him interrupts his tirade, his tone laced with annoyance. And Genji turns his head to glare back at the man through his hair.

The man is large, with dark skin and hair and black clothing with a beanie on his head. He has harsh dark eyes and a scarred face. He is familiar but Genji can't place where he has seen him.

"You fucked up big time, Shimada." he says, pressing his knee harder into Genji's back.

Genji bares his teeth in response.

* * *

Whatever liberties Overwatch had given Genji have been stripped away. He is now constantly guarded and it is prohibited for anyone to be alone with him. The unease in his guards eyes makes him smirk, not able to find it within him to be regretful of what he did.

Before now they had not thought him dangerous, he imagines they thought he was like an injured wolf. Calm in his cage while he healed, but the moment he had been let out he had sunk his fangs into the nearest prey. He is a wild and feral creature and they had become complacent in their views of him. It is their own fault and Genji will not be sorry for lashing out like a feral beast, because that is exactly what he is.

Dr. Ziegler gives him hard looks that border on glares as she methodically goes about checking his vitals and prosthetics. The gentle presence she once showed him as been replaced by clinical professionalism. Genji wants to spit in her face. She thought he would be grateful that she saved his life. Thought he would be tame and docile. It almost made him laugh.

He would not conform to the rules of the people who stole him from Riko. He was moments from following his daemon into death and they ripped him back into this _hell. _No, Genji would resist and bite until he found a way to end it himself. His dragon stirred in agitation at his train of thought, He would be glad to be rid of her as well.

But for now he was stuck here, constantly watched and starting to get very bored.

Now that he was beginning to be awake for longer periods of time he was left with hours of nothing to do except stare at the wall and wallow in grief and hatred.

His body has begun to heal, accelerated exponentially with the help of Doctor Ziegler. He still slept most of the day, his body exhausted. When he was not sleeping he was going through physical therapy and learning how to walk again.

It was grueling, humiliating work. He could barely stumble across a room with the support of bars on either side of him. The medical staff had scheduled for him to be brought down to a pool on the lower levels to build up the muscle he had lost. There were times where he would want to give up, he would feel a tightness in his throat as frustration would nearly strangle him. But then he would think of Hanzo and the anger inside him would burn like fuel and he would find it within himself to take one more step, to push just a little harder.

And with pushing himself so hard came the unintended consequence of his dragon activating herself without his will. Genji had always struggled to control her, his mind too flighty to truly lock down on her. And with the destruction of his body and soul he did not have the will to control her and he struggled to keep her contained.

She writhed and burned for blood, wanting to destroy and kill anything and everything in her path. It was hard for him to differentiate her anger with his own and at times couldn't tell the difference at all.

For the first time he truly wanted her gone. He wanted to rip her from every cell in his body and push her out. He just wanted to be alone and the closeness to her was achingly familiar to that of his daemon. It was a painful reminder every waking moment of the day.

Truthfully, Genji should have seen it coming.

Months of frustration and anger were slowly building within both of them, and with his animosity towards the spirit continuing without rest it was his dragon who snapped first. PT had been particularly rigorous that day and Genji was aching and burning with humiliation, Dr. Ziegler had murmured to be patient as she guided him back to his bed. And that is when it happened.

The dragon uncoiled within him and burst out like a wave of green fire with a roar, spectral claws aiming for the red weasel perched on the young doctor's shoulders. His eyes widen, a strange sort of panic fills him and he unthinkingly shoves the blonde woman away and tries to get ahold of his familiar at the same had never been afraid to kill, even Hanzo had more trouble with it than he, but this was different than a simple assassination. And there was something undignified about killing someone via their daemon. Something dishonourable.

The dragon rages and writhes with seething anger as Genji tries to rein her in. She is a tidal wave of heat and electricity and once she realizes that Genji is holding her back (just barely, he is shaking with the effort and doesn't think he'll be able to keep her from attacking for long) she turns on him and tears at his mind. He jerks in a full body flinch, bringing his arms to wrap around himself in an attempt to keep himself together.

'_Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!' _She seems to scream at him. '_I will destroy all of them. I will kill all of them. Yes, slaughter, maim, kill!' _And god it is so tempting. The mere idea of releasing his anger on others is relieving. The thing is though… Genji doesn't _actually _want Dr. Ziegler dead. He doesn't _actually _want to hurt her. She is the only person he can stand in this place. She has shown him nothing but patience and despite everything he appreciates it in a strange way. The more he thinks on it the more he realizes, he doesn't actually want to kill anyone in this facility (besides Mrs. Brown maybe). He doesn't even know what he wants anymore.

'_No,' _He tells the green spirit. She hisses at him, the green flames climb higher around his body. '_No.' _he tells her again, the pain in his head increases as she gets more frustrated. She is a stubborn and prideful being and even before all of this Genji had struggled to control her. He doesn't have the means to control her like he used to and fears he won't be able to wrangle her in.

'**No.**' he projects with a deathly sort of finality and _finally_, the ancient spirit pauses her tantrum to focus on him. If she were an actual living creature, Genji would think that he felt an odd sort of shame and guilt emanating from her. She seems to give him a once over, takes in the damage she had done to his mind in her mindless anger and quickly retreats to curl up in her place between his lungs. She is quiet for once and Genji slumps back against the floor with relief.

Dr. Ziegler is still in the room, holding her daemon close and giving Genji an unnervingly intelligent stare. "Are you okay, Shimada-san?" the blonde asks, stepping closer.

He stares at her for a long moment, utterly exhausted. "No," he says, his breath still ragged and he is drenched in sweat, his bangs plastered to his forehead. "I'm really not."

Dr. Ziegler nods, he can tell she is curious. She is practically bursting with questions on just what the hell happened but is holding herself back from asking and Genji is too tired to truly answer any of her questions right now.

He is not just physically exhausted, but mentally as well. It is strange but he… almost feels a little better, in a way. Like some of the weight on his shoulders has been lifted and for that moment the burning in his stomach lessens and he takes a deep breath of relief and allows his doctor to help him into his bed where he falls back against his pillows and closes his eyes with a mechanical sigh.

Dr. Ziegler quietly goes about checking his vitals to make sure his internal battle with his dragon did not cause any physical damage but Genji is too tired to really notice and instead drifts off easily into a deep sleep. He does not dream.

* * *

Genji is in the middle of a physical therapy session with Dr. Ziegler a few more weeks later when a visitor enters the room. He can make it across the room with only a faint wobble and unsteadiness now, and it is such a marked improvement that Genji can't help but smirk behind his mask.

Despite not being a physiotherapist, Angela Zeigler has taken over his PT sessions fully, with the occasional check in from more specialized doctors. He often overhears the blonde woman up late and making video calls with various specialists across the globe. She is more diligent in his care and healing process than Genji truly deserves and she continues to be a rock he leans on in his slow healing process.

He does not know how, but somehow along the way he has developed a sort of soft spot for the woman. The burning in his gut is soothed somewhat when she speaks to him, and he has come to desire her company throughout the day. Obviously the young doctor cannot spend every waking moment with him and he thinks Riko would have scolded him for being bitter about it.

Kaiser preens on the Doctor's shoulder at his improvement, "Wonderful job, Genji!" he calls out. The daemon had begun to comment things like that aloud recently. The assassin tries not to be too pleased about it.

In general, PT is a grueling and frustrating affair that Genji both loathes and looks forward to. It gives him something to focus on and do during the day and at the same time it is shameful to think that being able to walk across the room is something to take pride in. Walking is not all Angela has him do. He has to build up his muscles again and he spends a good majority of his time down at the pool. He has to practice fine motor skills and is instructed to move his prosthetics this way and that for what seems like hours.

There are days where the frustration grows too much. It is infuriating that so much work and effort results in so little. He screams and threatens and green fire licks at his shoulders and he wants to _hurt, maim, kill._ But those episodes are becoming much less frequent. Genji is oddly thankful for it.

If he were in Angela's shoes, he would not be able to put up with nearly half the shit he pulls. He is rude, and bitter at all times and yet the shorter blond takes his attitude in stride. It would be annoying if it weren't so comforting.

"Again," the doctor instructs, jotting something down on the pad in her arms. Genji glares a moment but takes another lap around the room. The mechanisms in his legs hiss and his arms outstretched to balance himself as he takes one step and then another. His prosthetics are strange, they react to his every thought just as his flesh legs would have and yet they leave Genji remarkedly clumsy and unsure footed. It is difficult to get used to because he isn't quite sure where the problem lies and how to fix it. Angela reminds him to be patient for what seems like the hundredth time. He is starting to hate that word - _patience_.

The assassin is just finishing his lap when someone wraps on the door thrice before entering. Genji recognises the man, the one who stopped him from killing Mrs. Brown. Angela had mentioned his name was Gabriel Reyes.. He narrowed his eyes, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back. A stunning barn owl swoops into the room behind Reyes and circles the room silently before finding a perch on a cabinet. The owl has bright yellow eyes and dark brown feathers with a snowy pale face, Genji considers her a moment before the dark man gains his attention.

"Hey, doc," the man greets casually with a wave to the blond doctor at Genji's side. His voice is deep and slightly accented.

Angela smiles and gives her own greeting in return, "Good morning, Gabriel. How is Jesse doing?"

"Ingrates' doing just fine, that tumble did nothing to stop him from running his mouth." he responds with something Genji thinks could be defined as a smile, if only barely, before turning his attention to the cyborg in the room.

"Good to see you're less murderous this time around, Shimada." Reyes crosses his arms and gives Genji a critical once over. '_For now,' _Genji thinks a little derisively. "I see you're back on your feet," the dark skinned man remarks when Genji doesn't say anything.

"He is recovering much faster than I had anticipated," Angela pipes up. '_Not fast enough,' _Genji thinks.

"Good," Reyes says. "Mind if I have a word with him?" the doctor cast a glance at the assassin a moment, studying him a moment before quietly excusing herself.

Genji watches her go before his red gaze flickers back to the commander. His breath hissing out in a mechanical whir. Reyes does not say anything until the door shuts with a resounding click.

"Gotta say, Shimada, of all the times I've thought of meeting you this is not what I had in mind," Gabriel says with crossed arms.

Genji raises a brow, "And what did you have in mind, Mr. Reyes?" he rasps.

"You behind bars, mostly." Reyes smirks, "I've been trying to take down the Shimada clan for years. Your brother is annoyingly adept at what he does, however. Can't get anyone close to him."

His brow twitches at the mention of Hanzo and his stomach makes an uncomfortable twist of anxiety. His bad mood is soured even more and his red eyes harden. "What do you want?" he practically growls.

"I want your help." the taller man says bluntly and for a moment Genji is thrown. "You are the best informant of the Shimada we could ask for, your skills as an assassin are legendary, and your clan thinks you are dead. Which is a circumstance I intend to take full advantage of."

"Overwatch does not deal with organized crime," Genji comments iciley.

"Not officially, no. I represent a division of Overwatch that… let's say works in the shadows. Covert ops."

Genji would be lying if the idea of bringing down the Shimada clan didn't send a zing of excitement up his spine, the idea of revenge was oh so sweet. However, he did not know anything about this man. He did not trust him in the slightest. The cyborg crossed his arms, the power core in his chest radiating heat against his flesh arm.

"You cannot take on the entirety of the Shimada clan on your own," Reyes says when Genji has stayed silently for a few long moments. "Like it or not, you're going to need help. And I am offering that. I can help you take down the Shimada clan."

Genji was silent for a long time, thinking. Reyes stood patiently, his owl daemon watching silently on her perch. "On one condition." he finally says in a sensitized voice. Reyes straightens up and raises a brow, waiting.

"I get to kill my brother."

He could be wrong, but he thinks he can see a smirk on the older man's face.

"Deal," Reyes says.

* * *

He becomes an official Blackwatch agent two months later, immediately after Dr. Ziegler releases him from her care.

* * *

**AN: Genji is such an angsty asshole I love him. I am not even gonna try and make this canon-compliant as I truly only know the barebones of the lore and have not read any comics or anything so... yeah lol**

** I'm planning on making this 3 parts, the second is gonna be Genji's time in Overwatch and Blackwatch and the 3rd is gonna be his time after OW falls and his true path to acceptance on what happened to him. Hopefully you guys like this idea and constructive criticism is always welcome ^^**


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